


Phil Coulson Is Not A City Boy

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Meet the Family, Phil grew up on a cattle ranch, This amuses Clint greatly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1684136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How did you jump from me growing up on a ranch to werewolves?” Phil asked, frowning at Clint. </p><p>“Well, I’m pretty sure that most people would be more inclined to believe the Phil-Coulson-is-a-werewolf thing than the Phil-Coulson-grew-up-on-a-ranch thing,” Clint countered, taking a small sip of his coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phil Coulson Is Not A City Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This story is for an anon prompt on AO3, which was for a story where Phil grew up on a ranch and he and Clint go down to his family ranch and Clint's basically in heaven. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: none

Clint rubbed his eyes, yawning, as he navigated the dark hallways of the Avengers Tower on his way to the communal kitchen. It was only a bit past midnight, but almost everyone else was already asleep because of how exhausted they were from that day’s encounter with giant, fire-breathing lizards. (Clint refused to call them dragons, because he still wasn’t sure if he was quite ready for that level of weird. Aliens? Okay. Dragons? No.) 

Clint himself had been asleep not too long ago, but had just woken up again, considering how he’d crashed directly after the mission at around five in the afternoon, therefore having already slept for about seven hours. He was probably going to regret that decision later when his sleep cycle was completely out of whack, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. 

There was a faint glow radiating from the kitchen which made Clint squint slightly, his eyes adjusting. He frowned, realizing that someone else must still be up – probably Tony, because he didn’t seem to need sleep. In fact, if Clint hadn’t seen him passed out on the couch once, he’d probably just assume that Tony ran on some sort of ultra-powered StarkTech batteries that he just replaced every few months.

However, as Clint stepped into the kitchen, he stopped, staring for a moment at the sight in front of him. Phil Coulson, still donning his full suit (well, sans tie), was sprawled out at the kitchen table, drinking what looked like Tony’s most expensive scotch. 

“Evening, Barton,” Coulson said, looking up from his glass, sounding remarkably sober despite his disheveled appearance. 

“I think it’s technically morning, Sir,” Clint replied, still staring at his handler and suddenly feeling a little self conscious about the fact that he was only wearing a pair of too-large pajama pants. “Is that – ?” 

“Stark’s ridiculously expensive scotch? Yes,” Coulson answered a little flippantly, easily anticipating Clint’s question. “I think it was the Mcallan, but I didn’t really check.” 

Which, you know, didn’t really mean much to Clint. He pretty much only drank when someone physically handed him a glass. 

“So what’s up?” Clint asked, sliding into the chair across from Coulson. “You doing okay?”

“Just had a long day,” Coulson replied, his voice steady, although Clint could tell that the other man wasn’t telling him the whole truth.

“Really? Because I promise I won’t judge,” Clint said, raising one eyebrow at his handler. 

Coulson stared at him for a moment, clearly contemplating whether or not to admit the truth. Of course, having the man who he’d had an underlying attraction to for a few years now staring at him while he was practically naked wasn’t entirely comfortable, and Clint had to resist the urge to fidget or look away. 

“My parents want me to come home for the fourth of July next weekend,” Coulson finally answered, sighing and taking another sip of scotch. 

“Oh,” Clint said, trying to sound comforting, but he was really just confused. “Do you not get along with them?” 

“No, it’s not that,” Coulson replied, shaking his head. “It’s just that…” 

“Yeah?” Clint prompted when his handler’s voice trailed off. 

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Coulson sighed after a moment, his cheeks just a little red. 

“Promise,” Clint said, growing even more curious. 

“So my sister somehow got it into her head that I’m a lonely workaholic – ” Coulson started, glaring at Clint as he tried to contain an involuntary snort of laughter (because apparently his handler’s sister had good instincts) “ – and she started trying to set me up with people. In order to get her to stop, I made up a fake boyfriend, but now my family actually wants to meet my mysterious significant other.”

Again Clint had to contain his laughter, but this time he was much more successful. 

“So tell them you broke up,” Clint suggested, shrugging. “Simple enough. You can act all sad whenever someone brings up relationships and your sister’ll get off your tail.” 

“Clearly you’ve never met my sister,” Coulson said, deadpan. “She’ll try to get me a one night stand instead, and _then_ she’ll go back to trying to set me up with whatever random person she finds.” 

“Huh,” Clint replied, frowning, trying to think up a solution to his friend’s current predicament. 

“And it’s not just my sister, of course,” Coulson continued, taking a much larger gulp of scotch this time. “It’s my father, too, along with my mother. They’ll start complaining about not getting any grandchildren and how I’ll probably end up in one of those news stories where a person dies of a heart attack in their apartment and isn’t found until days later because no one even noticed they were missing and – ” 

Clint listened to Coulson ramble on, his mind turning over ideas as they came to him. He blushed abruptly as a certain plan came to him, and paused for a moment, wondering whether or not to actually suggest it to his handler. 

“Hey,” Clint interrupted, breaking Coulson out of his increasingly unintelligible rant. “So I think I have an idea, but, uh, you’re probably not going to like it.” 

“Go on,” Coulson prompted, his full attention on Clint now, almost causing Clint to forget what he was going to say, his brain short circuiting for a moment. 

“You said it was next weekend, right?” Clint began, Coulson nodding in confirmation. “Well, I’m free then.” 

Coulson stared at him blankly. 

“I’m offering to be your fake boyfriend,” Clint clarified, his words a little jumbled from how quickly he said them. “You know, just for a week, so you can get your family off your back.” 

“You want to be my boyfriend,” Coulson repeated, still staring at Clint.

“Fake boyfriend,” Clint confirmed quickly. (Perhaps too quickly.)

“I,” Coulson started, pausing to glance down at his nearly empty scotch glass and lick his lips in a way that Clint totally didn’t find distracting at all. “Maybe we should talk about this when I’m more sober.” 

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. That’s, you know, probably a good idea,” Clint replied, blushing slightly, because of _course_ Coulson wouldn’t want to have even a pretend relationship with him. 

“We can discuss it in the morning, then,” Coulson said, standing up, and Clint couldn’t help but notice that he was slightly shaky on his feet. 

“Yeah,” Clint mumbled, wondering if he should get some of that scotch for himself. 

“Well, good night, then,” Coulson replied, shooting Clint a slight smile. 

“Good night,” Clint answered, although by then his handler was already halfway out the door. 

\---

Phil Coulson stared up at his bedroom ceiling, trying to ignore both his headache and internal panic. You know, the sort of panic that came from the guy you have a crush on agreeing to be your fake boyfriend for a week. Phil moaned and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow. 

The problem wasn’t that it was a bad idea – in fact, the problem was that it was a _good_ idea. They knew each other well, well enough that his family would actually be able to believe that they were in a relationship. Also, Clint was one of the few people who Phil was comfortable enough with to share such a personal situation with. So, really, it was a great option. 

Or, well, it would be if Phil wasn’t completely, head-over-heels in love with Clint Barton. Oh, it certainly wouldn’t be hard to pretend to be Clint’s doting lover, but he would be running a very high risk of Clint realizing that the affection wasn’t fake. And if Clint found out, well…

Well, there went one of the longest friendships he’d ever had. 

On the other hand, he really didn’t want to have to go back to his sister setting him up on dates with people who weren’t Clint. 

Phil let out another frustrated sigh before pushing himself up out of bed. He padded on over to his bathroom, taking a quick shower before dressing and heading into his kitchen to scrounge up some breakfast and grab a cup or two (or three) of coffee. 

He was waiting for his toast to pop up when he heard a tentative nock on his door. He frowned, wondering who could be here to visit him on his day off when they could have just called him. He went over to unlock the door anyway, and blinked as he found himself face to face with Clint Barton. 

“Good morning,” Clint said, a slightly lopsided smile on his face. 

“Good morning,” Phil replied after a moment, still staring at Clint. 

“Mind if I come in?” Clint asked, still smiling, although Phil could tell that he was a little nervous. 

“Uh, sure,” Phil answered, stepping aside and opening the door wider to let Clint inside. “Do you want some coffee?” 

“Sure – as long as it’s not decaf,” Clint replied, looking more confident again, that trace of anxiety vanishing. 

“Barton, do I look like the sort of person who would drink decaf coffee on a Saturday morning?” Phil said, raising one eyebrow at the other SHIELD agent. “There’s a time and a place.” 

“Yep. Never and in the trash,” Clint answered cheekily, his eyes bright in a way that made Phil’s heart skip a beat. 

“I’m not sure I would go quite that far,” Phil replied, although the edges of his lips quirked up in a smile. 

Clint just laughed. 

“So,” Clint started as Phil puttered about the kitchen, getting cups of coffee for both himself and Clint before plucking his toast from the toaster and buttering it evenly. “You sober enough now?” 

“You know, I’m not going to hold you to what you said last night,” Phil replied, concentrating on his toast, not daring to look over at Clint. 

“Well, I’m still willing, if you were wondering,” Clint said, startling Phil slightly. 

“You are? Because I completely understand if – ” Phil started, finally looking over at Clint. 

“It’ll be fun,” Clint interrupted, smiling. “I’m sure your parents and sister will be all too eager to tell me the most embarrassing stories about you.”

“I’m sure they will,” Phil sighed, smiling slightly despite himself. “You’ll be okay with the whole… couple-y thing, though?”

“Yeah, sure,” Clint said, waving away Phil’s concerns. “It’ll be like a mission. But, you know, way more embarrassing for you.” 

“You have _no idea_ ,” Phil muttered under his breath, quiet enough so that he was sure Clint couldn’t hear him. 

“So, how are we gonna do this thing?” Clint asked, pausing to take a sip of coffee. 

“Well, the fourth is this coming Friday and my parents want me there by Thursday,” Phil started, after swallowing a mouthful of toast. “We’ll probably stay through Sunday and get back on Monday.” 

“They’re in Chicago, right?” Clint said, making Phil bit his lip as he realized that he hadn’t told Clint yet. 

“Well, ah. No. They’re not,” Phil started, looking down at his coffee cup and fiddling with it. “I’ve actually never lived in Chicago.” 

“What?” Clint said, blinking at Phil, confused. “But I thought – ”

“That’s where I tell people I’m from,” Phil admitted, blushing slightly. “I grew up in Cissna Park, which is about two hours south of Chicago.”

“Never heard of it,” Clint replied, frowning slightly. 

“I’d be surprised if you had,” Phil answered, still fiddling with his mug. “The total population’s only about eight hundred.”

Clint stared at him for a moment. 

“You meant eight _thousand_ , didn’t you?” Clint said after a moment, still staring. 

“No. You heard me correctly, Barton,” Phil replied, looking down at his coffee and not quite meeting Clint’s eyes. “Population of eight hundred.” 

“And here I thought _I_ was the midwestern hick, having come from Waverly fucking Iowa,” Clint said, laughing slightly in a way which made Phil’s cheeks heat. “Waverly’s got like, what, ten thousand-ish?” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Phil answered, shrugging and fiddling with his coffee cup. 

“Hey, you okay there?” Clint asked, peering over at Phil, his smile waning somewhat. “You know, I’m not trying to mock you here.”

Phil gave him a look. 

“Okay, maybe a little bit,” Clint admitted, which made Phil’s lips twitch up into a tiny hint of a smile. “But it’s not, like, malicious or anything. It’s just that, you know, I’m always the one who gets the corn-fed-farm-boy jokes for growing up in freaking Iowa, and you just… well, you just look so _city boy_.” 

“Well, then I suppose that I should also warn you that I grew up on a cattle ranch,” Phil replied, his tone light. “A working ranch that my parents still live on.” 

Clint blinked at him. He blinked again. The archer opened his mouth as if to say something, before closing it again. He took a sip of his coffee, swallowing slowly, before opening his mouth again. 

“You’re shitting me, aren’t you?” Clint finally said, although he wasn’t laughing like he had been before. “You have _got_ to be shitting me.” 

“I’m not,” Phil answered, his voice much calmer and nonchalant than his current mood, because, _fuck_ , the only other person he’d told about this since joining SHIELD was Nick. 

“Wow. That’s just – wow,” Clint said before taking another gulp of his probably still too hot coffee. “Okay, now I’m _definitely_ coming.” 

“You are?” Phil asked, surprised.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” Clint replied, startling Phil with a mischievous grin which most certainly did _not _make his mind wander briefly to places it shouldn’t. “Why would I pass up a chance to finally see you in your natural habitat, Boss?”__

“I would hardly call it my natural habitat,” Phil said dryly, still fiddling with his coffee mug. “I enlisted to get off that ranch.” 

“Ooooh, so you were one of those kids,” Clint said, his lips still upturned in that stupid smirk. “I’m sure that’s going to make this whole situation that much more embarrassing for you.” 

“You know, maybe I should just tell my family I broke up with my fake boyfriend,” Phil groaned, shooting Clint a mildly annoyed glare. “I don’t have to take you with me, you know.”

“Aw, hey, I was just teasing,” Clint replied, pouting ever so slightly. “Please let me pretend to be your boyfriend so I can meet your family and ask them to tell me embarrassing stories.”

“You’re lucky that I’d rather have you learn embarrassing stories about my misspent youth than have to spend months putting up with my sister’s matchmaking attempts,” Phil muttered, taking another large gulp of his coffee. 

“Wow, it’s really that bad?” Clint asked, frowning slightly. 

“You’ll understand when you meet her,” Phil sighed. 

“So, any other family secrets you want to divulge at this moment?” Clint questioned, setting his arms down on the table and leaning forward. “You’re not also a werewolf or something, are you?” 

“How did you jump from me growing up on a ranch to werewolves?” Phil asked, quirking one eyebrow at Clint. 

“Well, I’m pretty sure that most people would be more inclined to believe the Phil-Coulson-is-a-werewolf thing than the Phil-Coulson-grew-up-on-a-ranch thing,” Clint countered, taking a small sip of his coffee. 

“No, I’m not a werewolf, Barton,” Phil replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Clint,” the other SHIELD agent said suddenly, making Phil frown.

“Yes?” he said, unsure what exactly Clint was getting at. 

“You should start calling me by my first name if you want to actually convince your family that we’re in a relationship,” Clint replied simply. 

And wow, this was a bad idea. Phil was just starting to realize how horrible an idea this whole thing was, because he’d had this – this _thing_ for Clint for years now, but he’d respectfully kept his distance, and this stupid situation he’d gotten himself into was going to wreck it all. He’d have a whole four days of calling Clint by his first name, and taking him to meet his family, and maybe even engaging in a bit of couple-y PDA. The thought of sharing chaste morning kisses with Clint simultaneously made his cheeks heat up and his blood run cold. 

But, well, Clint had volunteered for this, hadn’t he? And it was highly unlikely that this whole situation was going to make him fall even deeper in love with Clint, because, well, he wasn’t sure that it was physically possible for him to go any deeper. Plus, he really wanted his sister to get off his back about this, so…

 

“Okay,” Phil finally said, pausing for a moment. “Clint. You should call me Phil.” 

“Phil,” Clint repeated, and Phil had to suppress a shiver at the way his name rolled off the archer’s tongue. 

“I’ll explain everything you need to know about this – ” Phil had to stop himself from saying ‘mission,’ “ – situation on the plane flight to Chicago.”

“Sounds good, _Phil_ ,” Clint replied, smiling that mischievous little smile again. 

He was screwed. He was completely and totally screwed. 

\---

Clint tapped his fingers against his bed as he held his cell phone to his ear and listed to it ring. He stared at his wallpaper covered ceiling – it had seemed like a neat idea at the time – and waited impatiently for Sam to pick up, letting out a little huff. 

“Hey, Clint. What’s up?” Sam finally said right after Clint heard the telltale tone that occurred when someone picked up. 

“Nothing much,” Clint replied automatically, before his brain caught up with his mouth. “I mean – well, actually, something _is_ up, and I’m not going to be able to hang out this weekend. I know I said I was going to come down to DC, but something came up.”

‘Hang out’ meaning lounge around at Sam’s place while watching Dog Cops and maybe having sex. Like, casual friends sort of sex, because they’d tried dating once and could not for the life of them figure out how to make the romantic shit work. Blowjobs, leftover pizza, and chatting (not ‘gossiping,’ thank you very much) about hot people? Hell yeah. Cuddling, nice dates, and remembering anniversaries? Fuck no. 

“You got a hot date?” Sam asked, and Clint could practically hear his grin through the phone. 

“No,” Clint answered, trying his best to not sound wistful. “Actually, kind of. A little bit.” 

“I shouldn’t be jealous, should I?” Sam questioned, although he still sounded amused. “You better not be replacing me.” 

“Nah, I’m just being someone’s fake boyfriend for a few days,” Clint said as nonchalantly as possible. 

“Do I want to know?” Sam asked, probably with one eyebrow raised, if Clint were to guess. 

“Probably not,” Clint replied, still staring up at his bedroom ceiling and trying not to think too much about how desperate he must be if he thought that pretend-dating Phil was a good idea. 

“Is it anyone I know?” Sam continued, apparently not caring about Clint’s answer. 

“I don’t think so,” Clint said, frowning slightly and scrunching his face slightly as he tried to think if Sam would have ever met Phil. “He’s a coworker.” 

Sam and Clint had met when Clint’s therapist had suggested that he attend a group therapy session at the VA after being mindfucked by Loki. Although he couldn’t disclose too much of his situation, his therapist had decided that group therapy with people who weren’t still jumpy about him being mind controlled would be better than sticking him in a session with SHILED agents still suffering from the Battle of New York. Sam had happed to be the session leader at the VA and he and Clint had hit it off. 

Sam had been over to the Avengers Tower a few time, crashing at Clint’s place whenever he came to visit NYC, but because of the location of SHIELD headquarters, Clint was over in DC more often than Sam was in New York. Clint didn’t think that Sam and Phil had ever run into each other around the Tower, though. There’d been that one incident with Bruce, but that was about it. 

“Ooooh, am I detecting a little crush here?” Sam asked, and Clint could definitely tell that he was smirking obnoxiously. 

“Nope. No crushes,” Clint snapped, blushing slightly. 

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Sam said, and if they’d been having this conversation face to face, Clint would have probably just thrown something at him. 

“I hate you,” Clint groaned, flipping over and burying his face in one of his pillows. 

“I have it on good authority that you have a thing for my shoulder blades, so I’m not sure that’s completely true,” Sam replied, laughing slightly and sounding terribly smug, because, damn it, Clint had in fact made the mistake of tell him that a few weeks ago. 

“I just love you for your body,” Clint shot back, although it was lacking any real heat. 

“You say the sweetest things, babe,” Sam countered, and he was definitely laughing now. “Oh, hey, speaking of shoulder blades, I was out running and met a very fine example of the male physique. I swear, he had the shoulder to waist ratio of a dorito.” 

“The shoulder to waist ratio of a dorito? Really, Sam?” Clint said, sounding less than impressed with the analogy. 

“If you saw him you’d know what I was talking about,” Sam replied. 

“Sure,” Clint answered, more than a little skeptical. 

“Oh, hey, it looks like I’ve gotta go now,” Sam said suddenly, making Clint’s eyes dart to the clock on his bedside table. “I’ve got a session to lead in about fifteen minutes, but I’ll catch up with you later. You still need to explain this whole fake boyfriend thing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint replied. “Go save lives.” 

“I wouldn’t say that I – ” Sam started. 

“You totally do,” Clint interjected, cutting off Sam. “Now you better move your tail feathers, or you’ll be late.” 

Sam laughed and hung up. 

\---

Wednesday found Phil Coulson in an uncomfortably cramped airplane seat on a commercial flight Chicago, Illinois. It was a nonstop flight, at least, but he could already tell that he was going to have a bit of an issue with being squished up next to Clint – close enough so that he could smell Clint’s surprisingly citrus scented shampoo – for a little over two hours. God, he missed SHIELD’s private jets. How the fuck was he going to survive this weekend?

Well, at least they’d gotten a row of just two seats next to the window. Clint had claimed the window seat, of course, but Phil didn’t really have a problem with that, because he preferred the aisle anyway. 

“Okay, so give me the down and dirty,” Clint said, looking over at Phil, and, wow, he should really be banned from using that phrase for the sake of Phil’s mental state. 

“The – what?” Phil asked, flustered, and he knew what ‘down and dirty’ meant (and not in an inappropriate way, goddamn it) but he had no clue what Clint was really asking to know. 

“You know, the inside scoop on your family. What you’ve told them about your fake boyfriend, what to expect, what they’ll expect me to know about you, etcetera, etcetera,” Clint said, waving on hand at Phil flippantly. “You’ve gotta prepare me for this op, Phil.”

Phil _really_ liked the way Clint said his name. 

“Oh. Of course,” Phil replied, a little embarrassed. “Well, I haven’t told them much. Just that you – well, my partner – and I met a work and that our first date was at a coffee shop.”

“Okay,” Clint said, his tone thoughtful. “That’s good. I can work with that. What do they think you do for a living?”

“They think I’m in the secret service,” Phil answered, shrugging slightly. “Basically they think I go through President Ellis’ mail all day, looking for serious death threats.” 

“That’s… kind of a good cover, but also kind of sad,” Clint replied, chewing on his lower lip in a way that Phil found highly distracting. “You should have just told them you were still a Ranger.” 

“At my age, there’s no way they’d believe that,” Phil said, cocking one eyebrow at Clint. 

“Well they should. You can still kill someone with just a paperclip,” Clint shot back, which totally didn’t make Phil blush a little. 

“You do know that that’s just a rumor, right?” Phil asked, trying not to feel too self conscious. 

“Of course I do. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t do it, though,” Clint said, grinning again. “And, I mean, the ballpoint pen one is true, so…”

“That was such a waste of a good pen. It was a rather expensive one, too,” Phil complained, sighing. “Anyway – we’ve strayed off topic.”

“We do have two hours, you know,” Clint replied, leaning back in his seat. “Or – wait – three, actually. The drive to Cissna Park is about an hour, right?”

“Closer to two, actually. The ranch is a ways out, though, so I’m not sure how much time we’ll be spending in town,” Phil answered, nodding. “I’m really hoping we don’t, actually. They’ll want to know everything about our relationship.”

“Oh yeah, speaking of our relationship, how did we meet?” Clint asked, glancing over at Phil. “You said you told your parents that we met a work, but did you specify how?”

“No,” Phil replied, tapping his fingers on aisle armrest. “I suppose we should come up with something before we get there.” 

“Well, clearly I’m a member of the Counter Sniper Team,” Clint mused, laying his arm along the middle armrest so that his shoulder brushed against Phil’s. 

“Clearly,” Phil said dryly, making Clint jab him playfully with his shoulder. 

“And… you got multiple letters from someone who threatened to take down the president with a sniper rifle,” Clint continued, mostly ignoring Phil’s commentary. “So when you went to go interview him in order to assess the threat level you wanted someone on the Counter Sniper Team to go along with you, and I ended up being put on the assignment.”

“This sounds unnecessarily complicated,” Phil interrupted, frowning. “How about I just sat next to you at a meeting one day and we had a nice chat, so I decided to ask you out for coffee?” 

“But that’s boring,” Clint complained, his tone almost a whine. “Plus, if we tell your family a really elaborate story they’ll be more inclined to think it’s real.”

Phil sighed. 

“Anyway, where was I? So I ended up being assigned to your team,” Clint continued as Phil resigned himself to the hurricane that was Clint Barton. “And then on the plane flight over, our seats were next to each other, so we started chatting and hit it off. The mission itself was fine – the guy wasn’t actually going to make good on any of his threats, but after those few magical days together – ”

Phil hoped the look he gave Clint conveyed exactly how weird he thought this story of his was. 

“ – you had such a hard time being without me,” Clint said, bulldozing on as Phil tried to intervene. “Therefore, you started making up all these stupid excuses to come and see me and kept asking me to ‘consult’ on all these different cases, but even though you were hanging around me so much, you were too nervous to actually ask me out, so I was the one who finally asked you out of coffee.” 

“That sounds – ” way too close to what our actual relationship is and to how I truly feel about you “ – ridiculous. Why am I the one pining?” 

“Oh, I was totally pining, too. I was just way more subtle about it,” Clint replied, shooting another smirk at Phil. 

Phil had to bit the inside of his cheek to remind him that his fake-boyfriend was pining over him, not Clint, no matter how much he wished it was true. 

“There’s no way they’ll believe that,” Phil protested, hoping that that was true, at least. 

“They’ll totally believe it,” Clint said, shooting Phil a look. “From the way you described them, it sounds like they think you’re emotionally constipated and can’t articulate your feelings, and will never get the guy. Therefore, I’m painting a picture of you as emotionally constipated and unable to articulate your feelings, but you somehow do get the guy.” 

“Remind me never to go to you for a pep talk,” Phil replied dryly, try to ignore the tiny little stab of hurt he felt at Clint’s comments. 

“Hey, I’m not saying that’s how you actually are,” Clint countered, frowning at Phil. “In fact, that’s totally not how you are. I mean, you’re awesome and sarcastic, and clearly completely okay with being a lone wolf, because you could totally have a smoking hot someone hanging off your arm if you wanted.” 

Phil blinked at Clint for a moment, trying to compute what exact he was trying to say, because it really wasn’t making any sense to him. Because, no – he was _not_ okay with being a lone wolf, and he totally could _not_ have a smoking hot someone hanging off his arm, and even if he could, the only smoking hot someone he wanted clearly wasn’t interested.

“I think you have me confused with someone else,” Phil said slowly, still staring at Clint. 

Clint opened his mouth to protest, but Phil plowed on before he could say anything that would fluster Phil more and make him say something stupid. 

“Other things you need to know,” Phil continued, looking away from Clint, no longer able to meet his eyes. “My mother is named Julie and my father is Robert. Ellie’s my older sister, and her husband is Shigeo. They have two children, Tomiko who’s fifteen and Alan who’s thirteen.”

“What do they do?” Clint asked, clearly a little curious despite himself. “Does your sister manage the farm, or…?” 

“No, she’s a hematologist, actually,” Phil said, his lips quirking up in a small smile. “I wasn’t actually the first Coulson to fly the coop. She managed to land a full ride to the University of Chicago, which is much more than I can say for myself. Shigeo’s a chemistry professor. They were at UCLA for a while, but I believe that U Chicago has been trying to recruit Ellie back for a while, and they recently extended an offer to Shigeo, too, so that’ll probably be one of the main topics of discussion this weekend.”

“Besides your terribly hot totally-not-fake boyfriend, of course,” Clint said, batting his eyelashes comically at Phil. 

“Ellie’s going to _love_ you,” Phil sighed, rubbing his temples. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Clint replied, arching one eyebrow, but still grinning. 

“It’s a horrible thing,” Phil said, deadpan. “She’s going to hate me when I break up with you.”

“Aw, babe, I’ll make sure she knows that I’m the heartbreaker, not you,” Clint laughed, and it was clearly a joke, but Phil couldn’t help the way his heart stuttered slightly at Clint’s casual use of pet names. 

“Anyway,” Phil continued, clearing his throat and trying to suppress the blush creeping over his cheeks. “My parents are a little reserved, but they’re welcoming once they get used to you. They can be a little old fashioned, but they’re okay with the whole… non-heterosexual thing. My mother will probably try to feed you. She feeds everyone.” 

“I have absolutely no problem with that,” Clint said, his shoulder brushing against Phil’s again in that distracting way. 

“When I say she’ll try to feed you, I mean that she will try to feed you Thor appropriate portions,” Phil clarified, subtly drawing in his shoulders so that he could ignore the siren call of Clint’s touch. 

“You’re going to have to stop doing that, you know,” Clint said suddenly, making Phil shoot him a confused look. “The whole shying away when I touch you thing.”

“I wasn’t – ” Phil protested, although they both knew it wasn’t true. 

“You were,” Clint countered, frowning. “And I get that you don’t actually – that I’m just pretending to be your boyfriend, but part of pretending is making this more couple-y. How long have we been dating?”

“Six months?” Phil supplied. 

“Then we should still be all over each other,” Clint replied, unexpectedly reaching out and entwining his fingers with Phil’s. “We’re still in that honeymoon phase, which means that there’s going to be casual touching, cuddling, and maybe even kissing.” 

The butterflies in Phil’s stomach made a sudden reappearance at the thought of kissing Clint, even if was just for show. He was unable to keep himself from glancing briefly at Clint’s lips, breaking eye contact for a split second. 

“I – ” Phil started, unsure exactly what to say. 

He leaned forward slightly, and he saw Clint’s eyes widen minutely. However, before he was able to make a move, something that felt distinctly like a backpack hit him squarely between the shoulder blades and he was pushed forward, causing his forehead to collide with Clint’s. 

“Ow! Fuck!” Clint exclaimed as Phil let out his own grunt of pain, reaching one hand up to rub his throbbing forehead. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” a petite Asian woman said, the one who’d accidentally hit Phil with a backpack which almost seemed larger than her. “Are you okay?” 

“We’re fine,” Phil assured her, although he couldn’t quite force a smile. “You just might want to be a little more careful with that backpack.” 

“Sorry! I was just trying to get it down from the overhead compartment and, well…” she explained, blushing brightly and looking quite sheepish. “Sorry.” 

Phil waved off her apology and she nodded and said goodbye before scampering off down the aisle. Phil blinked as he realized that the plane was already almost empty. He’d registered in the back of his mind that they’d landed, of course, but he’d gotten caught up in talking to Clint again. 

“We should probably…” Clint said, glancing around the plane, but still clutching his forehead. 

“Yeah,” Phil agreed, standing up abruptly and turning away from Clint, trying not to think too hard about what he’d been about to do. 

“Hey,” Clint said, making Phil look back at him, only to suddenly find Clint far, far too close to him. “Are you sure you’re okay with – ” 

Phil leaned in and pressed his lips to Clint’s lightly, cutting him off. It was almost too caste to really be classified as a kiss, and Phil’s lips were horribly chapped, but it was the only thing that Phil was brave enough to dare right now. 

He then pulled away and started walking down the aisle, not bothering to check if Clint was following. 

\---

Clint fell asleep about half an hour into the drive to Cissna Park. Phil had a thing about driving, and even though he seemed more than a little disgruntled that he had a bland gray Camry instead of flashy red Lola, he still insisted on driving. Clint originally thought that he would be too energized to sleep on this trip, but the longer they drove, the more tired he became. 

In fact, Clint didn’t even realize that he’d fallen asleep until he found Phil gently shaking him awake, the car stopped and the door on his side ajar. Clint tried not to wish that Phil had woken him with a kiss instead. 

He failed pretty miserably.

“Are we there yet?” he croaked, blinking the sleep from his eyes. 

“Yes, we are,” Phil answered, and Clint could tell that he’d just barely resisted rolling his eyes. 

Phil stepped aside and Clint unbuckled his seatbelt before getting out of the car and stretching, his t-shirt riding up uncomfortably and his shoulders popping. He paused for a moment, glancing around at the scenery while Phil unlocked the trunk. The highway they’d driven in on was paved of course, the tar smooth, probably because not a lot of cars came out this way. Of course, the side road they’d had to drive over to get to the farmhouse (ranch house?) was gravel and Clint was a little surprised that he hadn’t woken up while they were driving over the bumpy surface. 

The ranch itself looked large – really large – although Clint wasn’t necessarily a good judge of how big a ranch actually was. For all he knew this could be normal or small, even. The grass nearest to the road was tall and golden, like the sort that Clint typically imagined when thinking of open Midwestern planes, but the grass closer to the cattle enclosure and near the house was mottled green and yellow-brown, fairly short cropped but still clearly wild. The cattle were penned in with a wire fence and were milling around leisurely inside their enclosure, grazing or just lying down. 

The farmhouse itself was of a decent size, one story and painted a plain but pleasant white, although the paint was a little worn and chipping away in places. There was a small porch and rickety looking wooden stairs leading up to it. Off to one side of the front yard was a gigantic tree, an oak maybe, and rope suspending a tire swing was suspended from one of its lower branches. 

“Bar – Clint, I’m not going to carry your luggage for you,” Phil called suddenly, breaking Clint out of his thoughts. 

“Really, Si – Phil?” Clint replied, turning to grin at Phil, but cursing how easily they’d both slipped back into using formal address. “I thought that’s what considerate boyfriends did.” 

“Considerate boyfriends carry their own luggage,” Phil retorted, drawing a laugh out of Clint. “And we should hurry, because I definitely want to be able to pick rooms before Ellie gets here.” 

“Sir, yes, sir,” Clint answered flippantly, giving a lazy salute and wondering if he could possibly make ‘sir’ into a pet name without it being weird. 

Nope. It would be weird unless this was a BDSM thing. Even then, it would still be weird with Phil’s parents and sister around. He really didn’t want them to get the wrong idea. He had a feeling that Ellie would be the type to get wrong ideas. 

He walked over to Phil who was closing the Camry’s trunk, their duffle bags already at his feet. He was glad that he’d had the foresight to bring a duffle bag instead of a roller suitcase, because he’d probably just have to carry it anyways, what with the gravel and all. He trailed behind Phil as they walked up to the farmhouse, waiting behind him as he knocked on the door, rocking back and forth on his feet. He heard someone undoing what sounded like multiple latches and locks on the other side before the door was jerked open and an Asian looking teenage girl peered out at them through the screen door. 

“Mom! Uncle Phil’s here!” she yelled back into the house, opening the main door fully. 

“Hello, Tommi,” Phil said, smiling fondly. “It’s good to see you again.” 

“Wow, so he actually exists,” she blurted out suddenly, and Clint blinked as he realized that she was staring at him. “Mom was starting to wonder.”

Phil sighed and sot Clint a very put upon look. 

“Clint, this is my niece Tomiko. Tommi, this is my partner, Clint,” Phil said, pulling open the screen door and stepping to the side slightly so that the two could see each other better. 

“Nice to meet you,” Clint said, managing a smile and extending his hand, which Tommi shook, although she seemed a bit tentative. “I’m afraid that Phil hasn’t told me much about you.”

And yeah, she wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting. He supposed the non-western sounding name should have tipped him off, and he felt a little embarrassed about making assumptions now. She had dark eyes and thick black hair, but her nose marked her clearly as a Coulson, although hers didn’t bear any evidence of having been broken a couple of times. 

“Well, then I suppose we’re on the same page, because he’s told us next to nothing about you,” Tommi replied, a small smile of her own spreading across her lips. “So, yeah, it’s nice to meet you, too.” 

“How about we head inside now so Clint and I can get settled,” Phil suggested, making his niece blush slightly as she realized that she was blocking the doorway. 

“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” she said, stepping aside so that Clint and Phil could enter. “Do you guys need help carrying anything?”

“I think we’ve got it,” Clint replied, although he gave her an appreciative smile. “We didn’t bring too much.” 

Clint followed Phil further into the house, turning left over into what looked like the living room. There was a very worn couch and a couple of armchairs along with a brick fireplace with a few framed photos on the mantle. 

“Aw, this is so cute,” Clint said, wandering over to look at the photos. “How old were you? Eight?” 

“Nine,” Phil muttered, looking a little embarrassed as Clint examined the photo of nine year old Phil Coulson trying to hug about four lambs at once. 

“I thought this was a cattle ranch, though,” Clint mused, glancing over a few of the other old photographs. 

“It is, primarily. We keep a few sheep, though, too,” an unfamiliar voice said, causing Clint to glance over to the doorway where a woman who looked slightly older than Phil was standing. “I can put one of the kids to work giving you a tour if you want.” 

“Ellie,” Phil greeted, smiling slightly as the woman who had to be his sister walked over and drew him into a tight hug. “It’s been a while.” 

“Well, it wouldn’t have had to be so long if you actually come to visit occasionally,” Ellie complained, giving Phil an unimpressed look which made Clint let out a small huff of laughter. 

“And you must be Phil’s man,” she said, turning to Clint and shooting him a nearly blinding smile, one that almost looked a bit shark-like. “My brother here’s been so tight lipped about you that I was starting to wonder if you actually existed.” 

“So we’ve heard,” Phil said dryly, glancing over at Tommi who put on her best innocent look. 

“I’m sure he was just worried that I’d be swept off my feet by how lovely you are,” Clint replied, smiling at Ellie cheekily. “Not that he actually has to worry about that. I’m afraid I’m a little too attached to him. I’m Clint, by the way.”

“Smooth. You have good taste, Phil,” Ellie laughed, shooting a smirk back at Phil. “I’m Ellie, Phil’s older and wiser sister.” 

“You wish,” Phil retorted, drawing a sharp laugh out of Clint. 

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Clint said, enjoying the way Phil paled slightly at his words. 

“Are Mom and Dad here somewhere?” Phil asked, attempting to change the subject. 

“Mom’s in the kitchen, and I think she enlisted Shigeo and Alan to help her. Dad’s taking a nap,” Ellie replied, her smile lessening somewhat. “He’s been feeling a little sick lately. It’s probably just allergies, but I’m still a little worried.”

“He’s not been having any more stomach issues, has he?” Phil inquired, looking worried. 

“No, that was just some acid reflux,” Ellie answered, shaking her head. “It’s just that Mom was telling me that they went to church last Sunday and one of the kids in the pew in front of them kept coughing. Even if it’s just a little cold, at his age that could be a problem.” 

“Well, that’s why we have you here, isn’t it?” Phil said, forcing a small smile again. 

“I’m a hematologist, not an immunologist or infection disease specialist,” Ellie replied, raising one eyebrow, which was apparently a Coulson thing. “If he had malaria, then I’d be set. Anyway, enough of that. We should probably get you guys set up in a room.” 

“I assumed we’d just be using my old one,” Phil said, frowning slightly. 

“Linda’s already claimed your room and Tommi’s in the guest room,” Ellie told him. “Alan’s on the couch down here, because the last time I tried to get him and Tommi to share a bed they got into a fight over the comforter which ended with Tommi yelling about how he’d bit her.” 

“Wait, Linda’s here?” Phil asked, clearly surprised, which made Clint wonder who exactly she was. 

“Didn’t Mom tell you?” Ellie replied, furrowing her brow. “Wade and Deb will be coming over on Friday, too.”

“We are not staying in the hayloft,” Phil said, his mouth set in a tight line. “Make Linda stay in the hayloft.” 

“Well, Linda did get here first,” Ellie pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest. “Plus, your old bed is kind of small for both you and Clint.”

“But – ” Phil protested, but he stopped abruptly when Clint put a hand on his arm, looking over confusedly. 

“It’s fine, Phil,” Clint assured him, smiling over at Ellie. “I’m sure we’ve both slept in way more uncomfortable places. It’s July – it’s warm out. We’ll be more than fine. And this way I’ll get the whole ranch experience, right?” 

“It’s really not as romantic as you’re making it out to be,” Phil assured him, sounding annoyed. 

“We’ll sleep in the hayloft,” Clint told Ellie, ignoring Phil. 

“Great!” Ellie said, grinning. “Lunch is going to be ready pretty soon, though, so you should go put your stuff away and then come right back. We’ll give you the tour afterwards, Clint.” 

“Cool,” Clint replied, returning Ellie’s grin. “Thanks.” 

Clint hefted his bag back up onto his shoulder and followed Phil back out the front door. Clint had to squint slightly as the glare of the bright sun hit his eyes, but they adjusted pretty quickly. 

“So, uh, who are Linda, Wade, and Deb?” Clint asked as they started in the direction of a large, stereotypically red barn. 

“My cousins,” Phil answered, sounding a little annoyed. “They stayed with us a lot when I was a kid, helping out with the cattle and such.”

“You don’t sound too happy about having them here,” Clint observed idly, prodding Phil lightly for more information. 

“They’re fine,” Phil shrugged. “We’re just not very close. Also I feel bad about overwhelming you with my family.” 

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Clint said, bumping his shoulder reassuringly against Phil’s. “I volunteered, remember?” 

“Which you’re probably regretting right now,” Phil mumbled, almost too quietly for Clint to hear him. 

“Nope,” Clint replied, popping the p. “I got to see a picture of nine year old you getting mobbed by fuzzy little lambs, remember? Maybe I should start calling you Mary.” 

“Try and I’ll make you babysit the junior agents for a month,” Phil said with a completely straight face. 

“You’re no fun,” Clint teased. 

The other man’s lips quirked up into a small smile, but he didn’t reply. They walked the rest of the way to the barn in a companionable silence. Clint couldn’t help but peer curiously over at the cows in the pasture over to their right, grazing lazily, their ears and tails twitching. 

“They’re Herefords,” Phil said suddenly, breaking Clint out of his thoughts.

“What?” Clint asked, looking at Phil, confused.

“That’s the name of the cattle breed we have,” Phil explained, nodding towards the grazing cows. “Holstein cows are the black and white ones that people usually think of. Herefords are good for meat production, though.” 

“Huh,” Clint said, still looking over at the cows. “And here I thought that a cow was just a cow.” 

“You are such a city slicker,” Phil replied, but there was a teasing not to his voice. “That’s like saying a dog is a dog.” 

“Well, when you put it that way…” Clint said, shooting Phil a bright smile. 

They continued the rest of the way up to the barn. Phil pulled open the side door, motioning Clint in first before following him into the barn. Clint couldn’t help but be at least a little curious as he peered around the barn, taking in the neat rows of metal framed stalls and the hay and sawdust covering the floor. 

“Hey, wait; we’re not going to be, like, sleeping with cows or something, are we?” Clint blurted out as he wandered over to one of the stalls. “I mean, I haven’t done that since I was a kid. Well, not with cows, but with the zebras, and I’m fine with it, but – ”

“No, Clint, we are not sleeping with the cows,” Phil replied blandly, sounding unimpressed. “They hayloft is on the upper level and even so, it’s warm enough at this time of year to just keep the cows outside. We’d only bring them in if there was severe weather or we were worried about coyotes, and with the severe weather the two of us would probably be staying in the house.” 

“Oh,” Clint said, blushing and just a touch disappointed. 

“Here, I’ll show you how to get up to the loft,” Phil continued, brushing past Clint and walking over to a ladder hidden away in one corner which Clint had only just noticed. 

Phil started up the ladder, Clint following after him. He blushed slightly as he realized that unfortunately his line of sight was aligned directly with Phil’s jeans clad ass, and he quickly glanced back down, trying to focus on the rungs of the ladder instead. He startled slightly as he felt a hand on his shoulder, jerking his head up to find that he had already reached the top of the ladder. Phil held out a hand, making Clint stare at him in confusion for a moment before he realized that Phil was offering to help him up. He lowered his eyes again, his cheeks burning, but he accepted Phil’s hand, allowing the other man to help haul him up into the attic like space. 

“That’s… a lot of hay,” Clint blurted out as he glanced around the hayloft, taking in the hay bales stacked neatly to the sides and the loose hay scattered across the floor under their feet. 

“I suppose so,” Phil said, shrugging before continuing over to one of the far corners of the hayloft. “There should be an old mattress around here somewhere, though. Hay isn’t exactly the most comfortable thing to sleep on.” 

“That is one thing I know enough about to agree on,” Clint replied, nodding. 

“It looks like we’ll have to grab a few blankets from the house, though,” Phil mused as he brushed bits of straw off of the worn mattress. “I’ll see if I can dig up a sleeping bag, too. If not I can just make up a pile of blankets – ”

“You better not be suggesting that you sleep on the floor,” Clint interrupted, frowning at Phil.

“Well, you’re my guest, so it’s only polite – ” Phil started, giving Clint a confused look. 

“How about no. The mattress is more than big enough to fit us both comfortably, and if you sleep on the floor you’re going to mess up your back,” Clint said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I promise not to molest you, S – Phil.” 

“I didn’t mean – ” Phil sputtered, flustered. “I – fine. If you’re okay with it.” 

“I’m completely okay with it,” Clint replied, raising one eyebrow. “You’re the one who’s making a mountain out of a molehill.” 

“Sorry,” Phil sighed, dropping his duffle bag down on the mattress. “It’s just been a long day.”

“And to think that I haven’t even met your parents yet,” Clint quipped, grinning. “We should probably get back, though, before your sister starts coming up with inappropriate reasons for our absence.”

“Oh god,” Phil groaned, rubbing his temples. “Yes, let’s.” 

They walked back over to the farmhouse in a companionable silence, and Clint couldn’t help but “accidentally” bump his shoulder up against Phil’s a few times. However, when they entered the house, Clint quickly became distracted by the delicious smell wafting from the kitchen, finally making him realize just how hungry he was. He followed Phil into a room near the back of the house, smiling at Ellie and Tommi who were already sitting at the table. 

“It took you guys long enough,” Ellie said in lieu of a greeting, although her tone was light and she smiled at them. “The food’s already starting to get cold.” 

“Sorry about that,” Clint replied, giving everyone at the table his most charming smile as he slid into one of the few open seats at the table. “I’m afraid I got distracted by asking Phil all sorts of stupid questions about cows.” 

Ellie and a few of the other people around the table laughed politely at his comment and even Phil smiled slightly. 

“Phillip Coulson!” a reprimanding voice said suddenly, making Clint turn to look at an elderly woman walking towards the table with a tray of watermelon in her hands. “First you don’t take the time to say hello to your mother and father and then you neglect to introduce your guest! Just because you grew up on a ranch doesn’t mean you were raised in a barn, for god’s sake!” 

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Phil said, standing up to help her set her tray down on the table before enveloping her in a tight hung. “I just wanted to let Clint put down his bags before I went dragging him everywhere.” 

“Just look at what the city has done to your manners,” an older man who Clint assumed was Phil’s father said, although his tone was teasing. 

“Well, maybe some time back at home will help restore them,” Phil said, smiling at his father before moving to pull out a chair for his mother and going back to sit next to Clint. “As for introductions, everyone, this is Clint Barton, my partner. Clint, going around the table we have my mother, Julie, my nephew, Alan, Tommi, who you’ve already met, Shigeo, my brother in law, Ellie, who you’ve also already met, my father, Robert, and my cousin, Linda.” 

“I wish we could say we’ve heard so much about you, but PJ has been very tightlipped,” Julie, Phi’s mom, said, as Clint subtly glanced at Phil and mouthed ‘PJ?’ which made the tips of Phil’s ears turn a little red. 

“I’m afraid he’s been pretty tightlipped about you, too, Mrs. Coulson,” Clint replied politely, feeling a little uncomfortable with all this attention focused on him. 

“Oh, please, call me Julie,” she said, smiling before turning to look around the rest of the table. “You can start eating, you know. Don’t let the food I slaved away over get cold!” 

Clint was pretty sure he heard Alan, the thirteen year old, mutter something about him doing most of the work, and Clint had to hold in a laugh. Linda took a sandwich and started passing the plate around the table in a clockwise direction while Tomiko did the same with the watermelon and Phil with the potato chips. 

“So, Clint, where are you from?” Linda asked as Clint placed a slice of watermelon on his plate. 

“Uh, well, I mean, I’m in DC right now because I’m with the secret service, but I was born in Waverly, Iowa,” Clint said. 

“Ooooh, an Iowa boy,” Ellie laughed, giving Phil a look Clint couldn’t interpret before glancing back at Phil. “Have you ever been on a farm, then?”

“Not really,” Clint answered, shrugging. “I ran away to the circus when I was a kid, and we had zebras and elephants and such, but that’s the closest I’ve gotten to a farm.” 

“You were in the circus?” Phil’s nephew blurted out, looking at Clint with wide eyes. “That’s so cool.” 

“Uh, yeah, I suppose so,” Clint said, forcing a smile. “It was interesting, at least.” 

He couldn’t help but notice the considering look that Julie gave him, a small frown on her face as she seemed to connect a few of the dots. Obviously she couldn’t have guessed all of the reasons Clint didn’t very much like going into too much detail about his time with the circus, but, well, kids with a stable home didn’t typically run away to the circus. 

“So, Clint, tell me, how did you and my boy meet?” she asked, changing the direction of the conversation. 

“Well, even though we’re from different divisions, we work together sometimes,” Clint started, glancing over at Phil briefly to make sure he was really okay with this version of events that they (he) had planned out. “The first case we were on together mandated that we travel to Oregon to interview someone, and we just kind of hit it off, I suppose.” 

“It was difficult not being around him every hour of the day when we got back,” Phil said, surprising Clint and Phil reached over to hold his hand, absently rubbing soothing circles of the skin of the back of Clint’s hand. “I kept making up excuses to see him.” 

“But you were too nervous to ask me out,” Clint continued, grinning at Phil fondly, not bothering to hid how in love he was with the other man for a moment. “So I finally had to be the one to ask you out for coffee.” 

“Yep, that sounds like our PJ,” Robert Coulson said, although his tone was just as fond as Clint’s when he said it. 

“Wait, really?” a new voice asked suddenly, and Clint looked over to see that it was Ellie’s husband, Shigeo, who had made the comment. “You can go chase away a whole pack of coyotes, but you’re afraid of asking a guy out?” 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly afraid that the coyotes were going to laugh and turn me down,” Phil answered dryly, although he sounded vaguely amused. 

“But I didn’t say no and I certainly didn’t laugh,” Clint said, smiling at Phil, who smiled back. 

Clint almost got caught up in the moment, because, _god_ , it almost felt like it could be real. Like Phil could actually also be in love with him, and that they could actually be in a relationship. 

“Well, I can see you’re not beyond the honeymoon phase just yet,” Julie chuckled, breaking Clint from his thoughts and making his cheeks heat. “Which is a bit of a surprise, actually. Normally the Coulson honeymoon phase lasts two weeks at most.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, I already know how insufferable he is,” Phil replied, and surprisingly the comment didn’t sting like Clint expected it to. “He’s childish, takes naps in the most inconvenient places, drinks coffee straight out of the coffee pot, and loves the color purple more than is probably healthy.” 

“Hey, at least I can cook,” Clint shot back, although it was in a good natured tone, “and I don’t have a huge man-crush on Captain America.” 

Strictly speaking, as handler and asset their honeymoon period had lasted approximately two weeks. Then Clint had jumped off a building and woken up in a hospital to Phil ranting about stupid risks and lack of self preservation instincts.

The rest of the lunch conversation was pleasant, and although Clint and Phil pretty much remained the center of attention, Ellie and Shigeo talked about how they were considering moving back to Chicago and Robert and Julie talked about the new cowhand they’d hired a few months prior. 

“Dear, you don’t have to do that,” Julie said as Clint went over to start washing dishes after the table was cleared. “I’m sure Tomiko and Alan would be happy to help. You have Philip give you a tour of the ranch.” 

“I don’t want to be rude – ” Clint began to protest, but Julie waved off his concerns. 

“Oh, I’ll save you some dishes after supper tonight,” she said, smiling cheekily before turning towards Phil. “PJ, you better keep this boy! I like him.” 

Clint was quite sure he’d never seen Phil Coulson, SHIELD Agent extraordinaire turn that red. It was more than a little adorable.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on tumblr at authorkurikuri.tumblr.com, where I post story updates and random marvel stuff. I do accept prompts, too, although I'm a bit backlogged right now because I haven't had much time.


End file.
